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Yoongi takes up sewing, and Jungkook doesn’t think much of it for the first month.
“Come here,” Yoongi says suddenly as he steps down the stairs, still bare-foot, from their bedroom. Yoongi’s been letting himself sleep in these days.
Jungkook’s making himself tea in the small kitchen. He’s in the middle of stirring, kind of skeptical. He brings the pink mug up to his lips, and tastes it, before bringing it back down. More sugar. “Why?” he asks, not looking away from his delicious-smelling orange pekoe. He opens a drawer, picks up a teaspoon.
“Just come.” Yoongi walks downstairs the rest of the way and shuts off the TV that Jungkook had left playing idly in the background.
Jungkook takes his steaming mug and walks back to the living room. Yoongi’s holding a flexible measuring tape, and there’s a notepad and pen on the coffee table. His hair is tousled, eyes a little puffy from sleep. His high school orchestra t-shirt hanging off his shoulder, soft and worn and gaping enough at the collar to show that small heart tattoo in the hollow of his clavicle. Adorable.
Jungkook places his mug on the small table. When he turns back to face Yoongi, he’s giving Jungkook one of those looks. Fuck, he’s so— Jungkook can’t believe Yoongi just goes around looking like that. He could have anyone, and he wants Jungkook. He does, he’s looking at Jungkook like he’s starving. Like Jungkook’s a steak. It’s so hot.
He doesn’t really question what’s gotten Yoongi so wound up so early in the day. Sometimes, on days Yoongi lets himself laze around, they have morning sex. It’s peaceful and warm and perfect every time.
Yoongi’s gaze is so obviously heated. So hot that Jungkook has to kiss him.
He intended for it to be a soft peck, but Yoongi melts into it with a soft noise, turning it into a real kiss, deeper. He drops the measuring tape entirely, Jungkook slowly presses his tongue inside, and Yoongi grabs his waist to press Jungkook against the beige wall behind him that they’d repainted together. Jungkook grabs Yoongi’s hips and pulls them against his, showing Yoongi exactly how much he wants him through his thin pajama pants.
“Fucking— ah—”, Jungkook grinds forward against his dick, “good morning to you, too,” Yoongi says, voice still hoarse from sleep.
“So,” Jungkook teases, “I think you had something you wanted to say?”
Yoongi lays sweet kisses down his throat. “I wanted to make you something,” he says into the side of Jungkook’s neck, between soft, wet presses of his lips.
“Sure.”
"You don’t know what it is,” Yoongi points out. His hand finds that spot under Jungkook’s shirt, his palm warm over the jut of his hip bone.
“I don’t care.” Jungkook would let Yoongi make him a clown costume if it gets him this hot. Pantaloons and all. “You can tell me. If you want.”
Yoongi slides his big hands up under Jungkook’s thin pajama shirt, sliding across his waist, holding Jungkook’s eyes and contemplating. “Good,” he finally says, “I won’t. Now take your pants off.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen only a little bit, before he quickly complies.
Yoongi gets down on one knee. “Waist,” he murmurs, picking up the measuring tape and holding it around the smallest point of Jungkook’s torso. He scribbles down a measurement on the notepad. “Hips.” He goes to measure around Jungkook’s hips, only he pauses to grasp his hips and jerk them straight towards him, so firmly that Jungkook emits a small gasp. Yoongi writes down that measurement too.
By the time Yoongi carefully has the measuring tape wrapped around Jungkook’s upper thigh, his erection is straining painfully against his underwear.
Yoongi frowns down at his notepad. “Not sure what this one means, actually.” He studies the rest of his handwriting. Finally, he reaches up to pass the measuring tape between Jungkook’s legs, making Jungkook’s knees twitch a little. Yoongi presses a quick kiss to the tip of his leaking cock through the material of his threadbare boxers, and Jungkook lets out a soft, surprised moan. “Be patient,” he soothes, “I’m gonna get there.” He meticulously measures the full length of his crotch seam.
Jungkook’s knees threaten to buckle, when Yoongi directly presses the measuring tape horizontally over the curve of his hard cock. He can feel the furious blush spreading across his face. “What—” he starts, embarrassed, but Yoongi cuts him off.
“You’ll see,” Yoongi says noncommittally. He scribbles down one last figure, before standing back up. He tugs Jungkook’s hips against his, and his own erection is plainly outlined in his stupid Pokemon pajama pants.
Yoongi leans in to press a soft kiss to his smiling mouth. Jungkook leans in for more, chasing his lips, but Yoongi just barely brushes his lips against Jungkook’s. Teasing. “Can I tie you up,” he asks. Jungkook nods.
Jungkook’s hands are tied firmly together in front of his body, a few pillows stacked behind his back.
Yoongi strips Jungkook’s boxers off, twirling them around his finger as he tosses them to the side. He drags his fingers across Jungkook’s shoulders , watching white and then red lines rising up under his fingernails. He runs his hands down Jungkook’s ribs, across his belly.
"Please,” Jungkook says impatiently, hips twitching forward.
“Baby, don’t rush me,” Yoongi murmurs, running the tips of his fingers over Jungkook’s hips, so close to his leaking cock. “I haven’t had you like this for a long time. Are you going to be good for me?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says shyly.
“You’re gonna let me do what I want?”
Jungkook sighs, shiver running through his body. “Yeah.” Yoongi’s giving Jungkook a few tight, slow strokes, making his hips twitch forward.
“Good,” Yoongi says, holding him tighter and rubbing his thumb along the wet, sensitive head of Jungkook’s cock. He whimpers, jerking his hips up, trying to fuck Yoongi’s hand.
As if to reward him, Yoongi basically swallows his cock whole. Jungkook’s head jerks back against the pillows, spine arching. Yoongi closes his mouth around just the head and sucks softly. Jungkook moans and Yoongi pulls off again, and looks up at Jungkook, a little half-smile. His heart stutters, a rush of desire going through him, that little smile getting to him more than the gentle, perfect and wet heat of Yoongi’s mouth.
Too soon, “I’m going to come,” Jungkook makes a pained noise, “please, I…”
Yoongi pulls off, hand sliding easily from how sloppy he got Jungkook’s cock.“I know,” he soothes.
“Please— I want you to fuck me, I— I need it—” Jungkook pleads.
Yoongi’s hand stops stroking his dick, just holding tight. He gets his mouth by Jungkook’s ear. “You said whatever I want,” he says softly, “and I want you to come just like this.”
It doesn’t take much more before Jungkook’s spurting into his hand. Yoongi gives him those fingers to suck on, stroking him through the aftershocks with his left hand. He doesn’t let up until Jungkook’s whimpering, begging him to stop.
Yoongi presses a few quick kisses to the side of Jungkook’s neck while he lays back, breathing hard and too fucked out to even try to kiss him. Yoongi stands up and pushes down the waistband of his dumb pajama pants, and his thick, fat dick is swollen, waiting for Jungkook, wetness dripping from the tip.
Yoongi walks around the bed toward their bedside table, reaching towards the drawer, taking out the lube, and then digging around, looking for a—
“Wait,” Jungkook says shyly. He still finds it hard to talk like this, his face burning.
Yoongi straightens, perplexed at first. “I’m getting a…” A look of realization eventually spreads over his face. “Only if you want to,” he says earnestly, but his eyes already betray his desire.
“I want it.” Jungkook says simply. Yoongi’s eyes flash with something hungry, and then he’s shutting the drawer, getting on the bed.
Yoongi takes his time opening him up, gentle at first like always, until he’s relentlessly fucking his fingers against that spot. Jungkook’s mouth falls open, his cock leaking onto his belly. It feels so, so sensitive because he already came before, but the pain bleeds into pleasure, making his fingers clutch at the sheets.
Without another word, Yoongi gets his arms under Jungkook’s legs, pushing Jungkook’s thighs higher and higher, Christ, bending Jungkook in half. He pushes in immediately, hard.
Yoongi starts fucking him like a jackhammer, fucking Jungkook’s brains out so intensely that he can’t do anything but whimper and take what he’s given.
“I like everything about this,” Yoongi murmurs, kissing Jungkook’s temple, his ear. “You’re doing so good for me.”
Jungkook whimpers, arms tensing and trying to jerk in the bonds.
“You’re so good. So pretty, baby. You know that?” He speeds up incrementally, pushing down on Jungkook’s thighs.
“You have,” he says roughly, “lips like a doll.” Jungkook closes his eyes and looks away, it’s too much. It’s so much.
“Look at me,” Yoongi says.
Jungkook timidly turns to meet his gaze. Yoongi breaks the rhythm for a minute, thrusting in particularly hard, and Jungkook lets out an audible little uhh that he’s instantly embarrassed about.
Yoongi gives him a cocky little half-smile. “There you go, baby. Eyes like a fucking lamb.” He reaches down to stroke Jungkook’s cock at the same furious pace that he’s railing him at, and it’s all so much. His hand, his cock deep inside him. Fuck. Jungkook sprays come all the way up his chest.
“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, starting to come, and Jungkook can’t help the clenching, milking his cock inside of him. Yoongi moans helplessly, letting go of Jungkook’s legs to clutch his waist, pulling him down on his cock, his hips thrusting wildly.
Yoongi fills him up, and keeps doing these slow thrusts, until he finally can’t anymore. He quickly unties Jungkook’s wrists after he pulls out, inspecting the marks. There are some light red lines, but Jungkook doesn’t really feel them. He tells Yoongi as much and Yoongi presses a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist before collapsing into bed next to him.
They breathe together for a long, warm moment, before Yoongi reaches for Jungkook and gently tugs at his hands, coaxing him to sit-up and straddle his waist.
“Round two,” Jungkook teases, even though that’s not even physically possible, for either of them.
“I fucking wish,” Yoongi tenderly runs a warm palm up Jungkook’s thigh. He pauses, staring at Jungkook’s chest, where come is still wet on his skin. “Huh,” he says, amused, “look at that.”
Jungkook looks down, trying to see what he sees.
“Wish I could take a photo.” Yoongi makes a sort of square shape with his hands, taking an imaginary picture. “You’re a work of art, baby. Look at that perfect pearl necklace.”
Oh. Jungkook feels his face heat up, even though that’s ridiculous. His ass is still dripping Yoongi’s come onto the sheets. The way Yoongi’s looking at the drips of come at the base of his throat though, is sending pulses of arousal through his body and making him want to go again. As soon as possible, actually. He’s so turned on, he says a stupid, risky thing. “You could.”
Yoongi hesitates, “we probably shouldn’t.”
“Don’t you have your Polaroid camera?”
Yoongi looks like he’s unsure at first, but then his eyes land on Jungkook’s chest and stay there. “Yeah,” he finally says, and then he shifts, guiding Jungkook to roll over and lay back against the sheets.
He lays there with his hands on his belly until Yoongi comes back with the camera.
“Arm behind your head.”
Jungkook complies, looking directly at the lens of the pink camera.
There’s a flash first, and then a quiet snapping sound. Followed by whirring, as the photo is printed. Yoongi slides it carefully under the base of the lamp on the bedside table to develop, before getting back into bed pulling Jungkook close to him.
“Thank you, baby,” he says into Jungkook’s skin, like Jungkook gave him a gift.
Jungkook smiles, grabbing Yoongi’s arm from around his waist and bringing it up to his lips. He lightly bites the side of Yoongi’s forearm. “I get a picture of your abs, next.”
Yoongi snorts, holding him tighter, and then yawns into his neck. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook replies seriously, “I’m keeping it in my wallet.”
Jungkook thinks about writing a song about the way Yoongi fucks him, often. He’s never been good at that dirty kind of songwriting though, and anyway, he thinks, he’d really rather keep that for just them. But he knows that if he asked Yoongi if he could, Yoongi would say yes, he knows that. Just like how Jungkook said yes to what Yoongi laid out on the bed for him.
“Come on, baby, let me see it.” Yoongi’s sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, leaning back on his palms. His dick is already kind of tenting the jeans he’s wearing.
Jungkook feels his whole face descend into flames, as he stares down at the pair of black, lacy panties on the bed. “I can’t—” he hesitates, “it’s—”
“You can.” Yoongi motions for Jungkook to come stand between his legs. His fingers slide over his obliques and grab his ass, squeezing. “I just want to see if they fit,” he says softly, “you can take them off after. Just, let me see it?”
Jungkook blushes furiously as he gingerly picks up the delicate garment and brings it to the bathroom. The black lace is itchy against his skin, but Yoongi wants it, asked, and made them for Jungkook to wear, and it’s hot, Jungkook has to admit. But he doesn’t really have to do any of that because the way his precome is seeping through the material is evidence enough that he likes it, this latest fantasy of Yoongi’s.
He likes the way Yoongi’s looking at him as he comes to stand between his legs again, likes the desire shamelessly written all over his face.
“You look amazing.” Yoongi kisses him, dirty and wet, and his arms come up around him, pressing at his lower back and forcing him to lose his balance, to topple on the bed. Yoongi dips down to put his mouth on the thin material, sucking softly at the head of his dick. He edges his fingers underneath to pull them to the side and slide them into Jungkook, until Jungkook is crying out, almost in tears. Making his knees tremble, making him moan, making him come; streams of it making the panties wet and sticky and ruined.
Yoongi leans forward, licking across Jungkook’s navel. Jungkook gently pushes his head away. “Too much,” he says weakly, “you’ve got to give me some time.”
Yoongi hums thoughtfully, before undoing his jeans. His hard, fat dick is right there, and Jungkook’s mouth waters. “Use my mouth,” Jungkook says hoarsely, before his brain even catches up to what he’s saying. He lies back against the pillows. Yoongi puts on a show of reluctance that lasts seconds because he moves up the bed and positions himself over Jungkook, his hard cock leaving a trail of precome on his lip. Jungkook opens his mouth, and Yoongi gently pushes in.
Yoongi’s just doing these slow, shallow thrusts into his mouth, Jungkook’s barely doing anything, but Yoongi likes it; his eyes are closed, his lips slightly open on a moan, his hand clenching in Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook resorts to moaning whenever Yoongi thrusts in just a little deeper, and the vibrations affect Yoongi so much that eventually his hips are just helplessly twitching forward, over and over again. Yoongi pulls out, and Jungkooki thinks he’s going to come on his face, and wouldn’t that be amazing, getting to feel Yoongi on him, getting to watch Yoongi see it on him, but Yoongi moves away completely.
“Need you hard again,” he breathes, moving down to press his mouth between Jungkook’s legs, teeth tugging at the lace, tongue licking against the thin material, breathing him in. Jungkook gasps, pressing Yoongi’s head closer, hardly able to breathe because of the wet lapping noises Yoongi makes as he tastes the sticky mess underneath. Fuck, maybe he doesn’t need time.
Yoongi shoves the panties down, breathing hard. “Take these off,” he says, reaching over to the bedside table to get a condom.
Jungkook quickly complies, carefully taking them off and dropping them on the hardwood floor.
When Jungkook’s wet and open enough, Yoongi sinks in with a satisfied moan. He fucks Jungkook hard, like he likes but is afraid to ask for, intertwining their hands pushing them back against the bed. It feels so good, so good that Jungkook is whimpering, fucking himself back on Yoongi’s cock, and then Jungkook feels his whole body spasm in a shock of pleasure. He looks down, and he’s coming, just from Yoongi’s cock in him, Yoongi’s hands holding his. Jungkook blinks away tears.
Yoongi notices and swears, taking Jungkook’s cock in his hand and milking a few more weak jets of come out of him. It only takes a few more thrusts before Yoongi’s groaning out that he’s going to come, pushing in deep and staying there.
Eventually, Yoongi has to pull out. “Fuck,” he sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead and rolling over onto his back.
“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees. He looks off to the side of the bed, where he dropped the panties. “Guess we can’t send those to dry-cleaning.”
Yoongi snorts, and replies “I’ll make more.”
“You did a good job with them.” And it’s true. They were a beautiful piece of work. Jungkook would feel bad about ruining them if ruining them hadn’t been so fun.
Yoongi turns to look at him. “Thanks, baby. You were so good, wearing them for me.” He pulls Jungkook against his sticky body. “I’m thinking of making you a frilly bonnet for next time.”
Jungkook turns to face him, trying to hide his shock and horror, and Yoongi manages to keep a straight face for about three seconds before he bursts out laughing.